Like Wolves
by sylverskyz
Summary: [OneShot] In this metallic forest of Sin, there is no such thing as good and evil, only the predators and the prey.


I come bearing another OneShot for you all! I wrote this a while ago, but never got around to posting it. Just a simple little drabble about the Turks (who else? XD) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Square

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The forbidding streets of Midgar, frozen in the chill of a dark November midnight, a setting for many stories of sin. Light snowflakes float down in an almost idle, uncaring manner, melting on the pavement upon contact. The bitter air about the city gives foreshadow of yet another grey morning to rise in a few hours. Many sounds drift through the streets, giving it it's own voice. Speeding cars, barking dogs, swearing drunk men, and the not-so occasional orphan child crying if one were to strain an ear hard enough.

It was a forest, a forest of steel and snow, with rivers of flowing cars, and trees stretching high towards the heavens, their foliage merely tinted windows and flickering neon signs. More dangerous than any monster-infested jungle, this 'forest' had a cold steel heart, wrapped in unforgiving concrete and twisted metal.

In the violent melody of Midgar's night, one man is avoiding everything. His heavy, tired footsteps hitting the pavement of a long alleyway, he strains himself to keep going. Escape, that is his goal. Away from the predators, away from the dangers. He shivers under his tattered leather jacket, and attempts to ignore the numbing cold that is wrapped around his legs from the knees down, where his jeans are dripping wet. His large brown eyes search the dark brick walls on either side of him, looking like a helpless deer in this deadly forest. By looking at him, one would most likely not be able to tell he has many sins on his soul, many letters on his record. He is running for those reasons, because they are threatening to cost him his very life.

Daring to slow his pace, the man inhales deeply, the bitter cold stinging his throat and mouth before warming as they reach his lungs. Exhaling again, he steals another glance around him before continuing to walk. He prays he is alone.

However, in a city such as this one, prayers are not a contributing factor. They are but empty words of faith that has no support. In the cover of the many blankets of shadows, Mako stained eyes watch the man. Their intense, dark irises almost blend with the pupils, which are wide in the absence of light. The man belonging to these watchful eyes straightens up from his position crouched in the emergency fire stairs. His feet make no sound against the steel, even as he begins to descend down the cold ladder. With eyes still on the man, he lands on the pavement like a cat, on his feet and in ghostly silence. Bringing his left arm up to his mouth, the man walks slowly after the other, still cloaked in shadows.

"Spotted him." He says with a smooth, liquid whisper into the radio piece attached to the sleeve of his navy blue blazer. "He's moving North, and just passed my post. He is coming towards you, Rude." Several seconds of silence float on air before there is a faint crackle of static in his earpiece.

"Copy that." An equally quiet voice responds. Working together to take down the prey…

Just like wolves.

The unknowing target does not notice his new stalker, or the man awaiting him as he nears the end of the alleyway. The man in tow keeps several meters behind, seeming as if he glides on air instead of taking human steps.

In his faintly glowing eyes, the look of impatience melts into anticipation. He stares ahead at his prey, fully knowing that he is now the predator. He follows, knowing that tonight will not be without sin. His long ebony hair flows around his straight shoulders as a small gust of freezing wind blows through the alley. Being downwind from his target, he can smell the cheap booze and cigarettes, blended into a scent that makes him wrinkle his nose. His face smoothes again. Concentration is the key.

The predator looks upwards to see a familiar bald man scaling down an exterior wooden stairway, also watching the man who had just passed him. This man's eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses, keeping secret to his emotions and expressions. The two exchange quick glances before walking together, still following their prey. The dark-haired man dares another contact to the rest of his group.

"We have just passed Rude's post, and are following him." He says softly into his sleeve. The two freeze and duck deeper into the shadows as the slums man halts and looks around again, possibly hearing the voice. After convincing himself that he must be paranoid and has to keep moving, he starts walking again. The two watchers wait as he looks behind again to double check he is alone.

They always check twice.

Waiting another moment, the suited men in the shadows watch him continue. They must be patient to catch their prey, wait until the right moment to strike.

Just like wolves.

"You two head him off at the exit." The smooth voice starts again, this time more careful not to be heard by the prey. "We'll be waiting behind him."

"Got it, yo." A voice responds, filled with a confident, almost cocky tone. By the young man's voice, one can easily guess at his rebellious attitude, and his arrogance. He was not like the two stalkers behind the prey, he was more the type to jump in, unexpected or not.

"Roger." A feminine reply comes immediately after. All of the other group members could sense her uneasiness, and lack of confidence, greatly contrasting the last speaker.

They were a group, a team. A handful of predators that preyed on the people they were instructed to silence. Simply, they were a pack, just like wolves.

The first two followers slowly and carefully close the gap between them and their prey. The other two, who had just taken the orders, wait at each side of the alley by the exit. They seem to breathe as one, their soft, silent exhales lifting into the air in clouds of hot mist, which then swirl into the shadows an disappear. All four sets of eyes, one intense, one covered, one confident, one nervous, all hold power and impending murder within them. All of them hold a hunger for the kill, a light bloodlust that will soon take over.

The two predators jump in front of the prey at the right time, cutting him off. In the faint light, the redhead and blonde smirk as they watch the man scream, and turn to run in the other direction. The men behind him startle him as well, and the prey knows he is cornered. Looking around with a desperate, pleading look on his face, the helpless man flattens himself against a wall. The predators surround him, two holding guns, one twirling and electric nightstick in his hand., and one raising gloved fists.

A terror-filled scream, a crackle of electricity, and two shots ring out into the night. Their combined echo fades to the stars, and the city's melody resumes.

The four wordlessly disappear from the scene, exiting the alleyway with no emotion on their faces. Still, they stick to the shadows, despite knowing that not a single soul would investigate the sounds of the murder. Not in this city. The dark-haired man taking the lead, the pack walks with cold silence. Light splatters of blood lace at least one cheek on each person, but they do not take notice.

Locate, stalk, corner, kill. Take a life, leave the remains. And the only witnesses are the stars and the moon, who gaze down upon this sinful metallic forest with a disapproving gleam. These predators do not kill because they want to, they kill because they have to.

Just like wolves.


End file.
